Heartseeker Page 10

  Iordan clucked like a ruffled rooster. “Are you threatening me, mistress?”

  “You bet your backside. Weren’t you listening?”

  The inquisitor narrowed his eyes, ready to deal out some lip, but his book smarts were nothing against five feet three inches of Non. He might have been high and mighty at the castle, but in my house, he was nothing but a ransomer in fancy dress.

  Finally, he shook my hand with as little of him touching me as he could manage. “We travel to Lochery in an hour. A carriage more suitable to the journey north will be waiting there. Make whatever preparations you see fit.” He made for the front door, where he paused to give my parents a small bow. “His Majesty thanks you for the generous gift of your daughter.”

  He was forced to jump back as a plate shattered against the wall next to his head. A second sat clasped in Mama’s white-knuckled grip. “Get out out of this house,” she hissed.

  The inquisitor didn’t have to be told twice. He was nothing but a blur of gray robes and ill feelings as he whisked through the door, slamming it shut behind him.

  * * *

  NON ONCE SAID there’s a part of your head you can use as a forgetting place—a little room where you can put troublesome things that won’t give you peace if you let ’em loose. You can’t keep ’em there forever, but it might give you time to do what needs to be done. That’s where I put my fare-thee-wells to the orchard.

  It’s where I put Mama’s tears and Papa’s tight, sad face. It’s where I put the rock my brother threw at the inquisitor before Mama could grab it from him. It’s where I put the feel of Non’s hand in mine when she kissed me and told me not to look back once the wheels started turning. It’s where I put the smell of the cart that carried us over the hill until my home was just a speck in the distance. It’s where I put the shift and shimmer of Master Iordan’s fine robes in the early-evening light. It’s where I put the pitying look of the liveried boy. And when my forgetting room was just about full to bursting, I shut the door and locked it up tight.

  After that, there was only the rumble of the wheels, the dust of the road, and the greatest hurt my heart had ever known.

  11

  I must have drifted off between Presston and Lochery, the clatter and sway of the cart lulling me to sleep with my head on a bale of straw. I dreamed I climbed up into the branches of Grandfather, higher and higher until I ran out of tree. When my head popped out above the canopy of green, there were no lush fields and no river, but only Master Iordan, filling the whole sky, reaching his long, bony hands toward me. I gasped and lost my footing, tumbling back down through the branches, the ground rushing up to meet me.

  The cart jolted and I woke with a start. It was nothing but a rut in the road, but from up front where the inquisitor was sitting next to the driver, I heard him grumble about “provincial byways” and hated him all over again. I hoped whatever happened once we reached the capital, I wouldn’t have to see his thin, smug face ever again. I sat up, trying to concentrate on what was around me rather than thinking dark thoughts of shoving the inquisitor off his seat into the dirt.

  Across from me, sat as straight as he could on a crate, was the young man in blue and silver. He’d given up pretending not to see me and was staring without apology. Who did he think he was, other than a fancy little serving boy to a glorified hallsmaster? I’d be horsewhipped if I was going to give him the pleasure of conversation, so I mustered my most ferocious glare. He looked away quickish, scooting as far back on the crate as he could without falling clean out of the cart.

  We were just at the familiar stone bridge that spanned an offshoot of the river at the outskirts of Lochery. I often went with Mama or Papa into town if I could beg a seat on the wagon. Dressed neat as a pin, I’d be fair bursting with excitement at the promise of a honey stick from the goods shop after all the errands were finished, but that evening, the post marking the town limits filled me with nothing but dread. Wrapped in my best traveling coat and hanging tight to my nameday chest, I knew there was no honey stick waiting—only a long trip promising who knows what.

  The cart trundled over the rough cobbled street into the town square. Shops were dark, but lanterns were burning in the windows of houses and in the Bird in’th Hand, where the merry chatter of the customers spilled out the open door. Men and women in from the fields hoisted tankards of ale and Scrump, grateful for the day’s end, and my small heart was wicked with envy for them as we passed the pub heading toward the waystation.

  I’d never been to the waystation at so late an hour before. The rattling of our wagon was deafening as we passed under the arch into the quiet courtyard, which would normally be bustling with hooves and coaches. Two stable hands, chivvied from some game or other, grumpily guided us in. A girl circled round to the back of the wagon and, with the help of Master Iordan’s boy, began hoisting down what little luggage we’d brought. I clutched my nameday box tighter to my chest as the inquisitor extended a hand to help me down.

  “Are we staying here tonight?” I asked. The waystation’s inn was pleasant, with a huge hearth in the great room, but I was weary and mournful. Even a simple cot would feel like a luxury to my cart-sore bones.

  Master Iordan shook his pompous head. “We’re to keep to a schedule that will see you in Bellskeep within the week. We’ll press on through the night and take on a fresh team at Oldmoor. If we make good time, we’ll stay tomorrow eve in North Hallow.”

  Oldmoor? North Hallow? Bellskeep had seemed imaginary up to that minute—a place you found yourself after stepping into a faerie ring. Not a place you actually went to by way of two towns that I knew to be over sixty miles away. Bellskeep, as far as it was, couldn’t bring me to tears, but Oldmoor and North Hallow sent salt spilling down my cheeks before I could stop it. I was glad the inquisitor’s back was turned.

  “Ain’t traveling at night a bit on the dangerous side?” I asked sourly. “It’s dark as old boots out there. Wouldn’t take but a possum’s sneeze to spook a horse. And what about the no-gooders waiting out there for folk with more haste than sense?”

  “Do keep still, child. Do you really believe the king has made no provisions for your safe deliverance?”

  As if to prove his point, a dozen cavalry riders made their entrance into the courtyard from the inn. At least six more stable hands followed with their mounts. They looked so grand, I forgot my fear a moment and drank in the sight. The silver braid on their leather surcoats shone as keenly as the edges of their swords. No one, not even the no-gooders in the woods, would be like to take a chance on this regiment of swordsmen and the enormous destriers being led out of the stables, nickering and tossing their heads.

  Were they really all for me?

  I glanced round, looking for some sign of the wagon that would carry us through the night, but could see none. I hoped they weren’t planning on making me ride. I was at home in a saddle, but I was so tired, staying on a horse might well have proved impossible. I followed the inquisitor toward a small outbuilding in the yard I’d never noticed before when I visited with Papa. It wasn’t till we got closer that I realized it wasn’t a building at all—it was the most enormous coach I’d ever seen. Eight heavy carthorses were being hitched to the front, ready to pull the contraption nearly as large as Non’s herbery. Clever lanterns, set into the frame of the coach, blazed from all corners, ready to bring the daylight to any dark path. Double doors on the side were open and Master Iordan stood by them, tapping his foot on the stone in impatience. “We should be gone by the eighth bell.”

  “Mother’s breath!” I exclaimed. “What’s that?”

  “It’s our transport and it’s high time we were away,” he replied irritably. “Now, if you please.” He motioned to the coach. Inside was a narrow passage with sliding doors on either side. “You will have the rear compartment. I’ll have one of the footmen stow that for you.” He held out his hand for the box I had wrapped tightly
in my arms.

  “No!” I held it closer. “I mean, no, thank you, master. I’ll keep it with me.”

  Iordan slid the door to my compartment open. “Suit yourself.”

  Inside the compartment were twin berths, one on top of the other, both with decadent quilting and a pair of lavish, overstuffed pillows at their heads. The same clever lanterns were set into the rich, blue-papered wall, making the small space cozy rather than close. In the corner was a tiny closet I took for a wardrobe, but when I opened it, it plainly wasn’t for storing clothes.

  “I ain’t never seen a moving thunderbox before!”

  The inquisitor’s nose wrinkled distastefully, like it was trying to scoot off his face altogether. “Yes, quite. If you find yourself in need of . . . comfort . . . kindly utilize the box while we’re in motion. Now, if you’ll be settled, we’ll be away momentarily.” Quick as a gopher, he slid the door to his own compartment open and disappeared into it, closing it behind him, fast as he could.

  Sliding my nameday chest onto the top bunk, I moved aside the thick velvet curtain covering the small window to my left so I could peer into the courtyard. The cavalry were all seated, their mounts champing restlessly at their bits, eager to be away. One rider stood out in the regiment—a bright silver breastplate gleamed atop the surcoat as the enormous mount carried the soldier around the coach, checking and double-checking the riders’ formation. As the great beast came into my view, the lantern light revealed the rider to be a tall and stately woman, her sleek black hair pulled back and tucked into her collar. Her face was handsome and strong, her eyes dark and alert. I couldn’t help but gape at her. I’d never seen a lady in armor before, but she looked fierce enough to eat most of the other horsemen for breakfast.

  Her voice rang true over the courtyard. “Dahl, Rickard, you’re to the front. Hutch, Emerick, you’re bringing up the rear. Loosley, Farren, and Martin to the left. Ballard, Sweets, and Nafir to the right. Eyes and ears wide-open, understood?” The company barked their understanding and fell in around us in a racket of hooves. The rider took a last look at the formation and, satisfied, turned her own mount to the head of the carriage. Out of the corner of her eye, she must have noticed me staring, because she gave a sharp little nod in my direction before riding out of sight. From somewhere above, there was the crack of a whip and a shout of “Hi’yup!” and the enormous coach jerked forward, sending me staggering back onto the bottom bunk, where I sat down with a thump. The wheels were thunder on the cobbles as we rolled out of the courtyard and into the night. Most of Lochery twitched their curtains aside to watch the grand procession wind slowly out of town.

  Before the stew of feelings bubbling in my soul’s pot could overflow, a hatch in the roof flipped open and the top half the liveried boy appeared through the ceiling. It gave me such a fright, I banged my head on the bunk above.

  “I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to startle you!”

  “So, you’ve got a tongue after all,” I spat, rubbing my forehead. “What are you doing creeping about the top of a moving coach?”

  “I’m sorry we weren’t introduced. Master Iordan . . . doesn’t always remember I’m here. I’m Gareth. I’m one of His Majesty’s stewards. If you need anything, just pull on the blue cord in the corner. Food, drink, water to wash with, anything.”

  “I don’t need nothing.” I know my tone wasn’t pleasant and I could hear Non’s voice in my head chiding me to mind my manners, but I wasn’t of a mood to speak to anyone, especially Gareth.

  His shaggy brown hair waved with the breeze coming in from the open hatch. “Oh. All right, then. Well . . . if you do . . .”

  I thought he was about to disappear back through the roof, but instead, he just hung there. I folded my arms.

  “What are you goggling at? Didn’t get enough of a spectacle earlier when I got took away?”

  The steward looked offended. “It’s not like that! It’s just that no one told me you’d be—”

  “That I’d be what? In such a bad temper?” I felt the tears coming and there was no stopping them. “You’d be in a bad temper if some great, skinny beetle stole you from your own home.”

  The boy on the roof looked horrified. “No, they didn’t say that you were so . . . young. I didn’t realize that we’d have to . . .” He stopped short. “I thought you’d be a woman grown.”

  “Well, I ain’t.” I sniffed, wiping my nose on the cuff of my coat, not caring if he saw. “You and this whole party can go take a flying leap into the river for all I care.”

  He might have made a hurt face, but it was hard to tell as he was still upside down, jiggling with every bump of the road. Outside, one of the horses in the caravan whinnied loudly.

  “Please pull the cord if there’s anything you need. Good night, miss.” Gareth’s head vanished and the ceiling hatch clanged shut, leaving me alone with the rumbling of the wheels and my tearstained cheeks.

  12

  Non always said traveling was like stretching your legs in the world. But during the first day on the kingsroad, I did precious little leg stretching and saw almost nothing outside of the hateful wheeled box other than what I could spy through the small windows. Gareth must’ve come while I was sleeping, as I woke to the smell of good bread, butter, and sweet apricots. I’d had half a thought to make my displeasure known through refusing food, but my belly grumbled so loud, Master Iordan must’ve heard it in his cabin. At North Hallow, after a long night and day being bounced around like luggage in the back of the grand coach, we were bundled inside a large stone inn so quick, I didn’t even have time to read the name from the sign.

  I wasn’t keen on being handled, especially by Master Iordan, who, thankfully, had kept to himself since we left Lochery. “Master, could I just have a breath of fresh air before we—”

  “In case you’d not noticed, we’re traveling in a large, formal caravan with a cavalry escort,” the inquisitor interrupted, his mood after two days on the road plainly as sour as mine. “The less curious the locals are, so much the better. Now, up the stairs to your left, if you please.”

  I glanced longingly at the great room as we passed, with a fire roaring merrily in the hearth, glowing lanterns on the long tables and the smell of leek and potato soup and crusty bread wafting toward us. But the inquisitor chivvied me up the creaking staircase before the crowd assembled had time to give us a once-over. My belly rumbled loudly again. Gareth’s travel rations on the coach had filled a hole, but I had a mighty need for something hot and nourishing.

  Iordan seemed to read my thoughts. “I’ll have the steward bring a meal up to your room. We’ll not be making an appearance in the dining area.”

  My cold fingers itched to melt by the fire, but my belly, at least, would be satisfied. We reached the top of the stairs, and Iordan was forced to duck his head to enter the narrow hall with the rooms, where he pushed open the first door we came to. Inside was an enormous bed and a large, diamond-paned window overlooking a deep stream that ran behind the building. The inquisitor glided past me to draw the heavy drapes. I was a little cheered to see the room had its own fireplace with logs already ablaze to chase out the chill. The air had taken on a bite as we’d moved north. I wondered if Mama and Papa had lit our hearth yet, and my heart quivered a little.

  Satisfied we were cloistered from the outside world, the inquisitor took his leave. “You’re to keep yourself confined to this room. There is water for washing and a chamber pot beneath the bed. Dinner will be up directly.” And for the second time in as many days, he shut the door in my face, leaving me with none but myself for company.

  I sat down before the hearth. The hinges on my nameday box creaked as I opened it, filling the room with the scent of lavender that broke my heart open all over again. I pulled out the Allcloth to rub against my cheek, remembering the softness of it on my pillow when I was small and needed to feel it between my fingers before sleep wo
uld take me. Something sharp inside the cloth rasped against my face and I jerked up, only to find the Jack tangled up inside. I freed him, watching the dancing light of the acorn roll side to side as if it were just as restless as me, stuck in that blasted coach.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered to the little figure, fighting the hot, remorseful tears clinging to my lashes.

  Lark and Rowan hadn’t come this way in a fine carriage. They didn’t have fine feather beds in an inn. They certainly didn’t have a troop of cavalry to protect them from the no-gooders in the dark. They came this way with nothing.

  The acorn flared and sparked its consolation.

  Be brave, it seemed to say. Be brave for us.

  * * *

  I SUDDENLY FOUND myself sitting straight up, blinking into the dark of a room that wasn’t mine.

  I’d gorged on the soup, bread, and sweet milk that Gareth had delivered, and now my bladder was complaining, but there was something else. Something I couldn’t put my hand on. Prickles shot up and down my arms, tickling a memory of hiding in a cider barrel when I was small. It was dark and close and it wasn’t long before I kicked the lid off, exploding into the world. I needed air. I needed it right then.

  I jumped from under the quilt of the great bed and threw back the drape. Just the waning blue light out of doors eased the uncomfortableness of the room, but I still wasn’t satisfied. I fumbled with the window latch and pushed open the pane, letting in the night air. It almost took my breath at first, but then I sucked it in, greedy for the fresh cold of it. Just below, a short trellis climbed up the wall—a ladder for flowering vines. At the bottom, a path led through the garden to the water closet, set far enough away from the inn as not to offend the patrons with its whiff. I glanced at the chamber pot beneath the bed and then back at the squat building out in the darkness. The inquisitor could go hang. I wasn’t using that nasty old pot if I didn’t have to.